


Damage Control

by alovething



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-11
Updated: 2005-05-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12068766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alovething/pseuds/alovething
Summary: Brian wakes up to his worst nightmare. Justin must fix the problem.





	Damage Control

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

**AN:** _I wrote this playful little fic as a way to blow off a little steam. I got the idea from the No Turning Back site. Thanks to Kami for all her help. Please review. =D_

* * *

Brian opened his eyes and squinted against the harsh sunlight. He groaned and stretched his muscles in a cat like fashion. He rolled to the side and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on Justin’s sleep reddened cheek. The blond rolled to the side and mumbled something that resembled a greeting. Brian got out of bed and yawned, running his fingers through his severe bed head. He relieved his full bladder and then stood in front of the sink. He rubbed his eyes and opened them slowly, letting his reflection come into focus.

He blinked once, and then twice, and then was very fucking alert.

“OH MY GOD! NO!”

Justin’s blue eyes popped open and it took a few seconds for him to recognize the harsh sound assaulting his eardrums. 

Yes, it was Brian shrieking like a tiny little girl.

Justin furrowed his brows and got out of bed. Were they out of condoms? Out of Brian’s ridiculously expensive French shampoo? What could be making his boyfriend scream so loud when it was so…fucking… _early_?

He yawned and stumbled into their bathroom in a daze, sleep still muddling his mind. He opened his eyes to see Brian completely pale, staring stone faced into the mirror. He was gripping the sides of the sink so hard his knuckles were white.

“Brian?” Justin asked, growing more concerned. “What is it?”

Brian’s head whipped to face him and that’s when Justin saw it He gasped and clasped a small pale hand over his full lips. He appeared to be in shock, but was really biting his palm to stifle the giggle fit that was threatening to emerge.

Brian had a _pimple_.

There was a big, fat, white, grotesque zit displayed prominently on his right cheek. Brian looked on the verge of tears. Justin couldn’t help it anymore. He let out a loud, booming laugh that made his entire body quake.

“It isn’t funny, asslick.” Brian’s pout only made Justin laugh harder.

“Brian,” he got out, wiping his eyes. “It’s only a pimple.”

“ _Only_ a pimple? ONLY? Do you have any idea what this means?”

“That you shouldn’t have passed out before you washed all that shit off your face last night.”

“Excuse me? The chocolate syrup was all _your_ idea.”

“Maybe so, but who’s idea was it to break out the honey?”

“Oh shut up. The point is, I HAVE A HUGE ZIT!” Brian paused and glanced back into the mirror. “Last night was pretty hot though.”

“Yeah,” Justin agreed. He licked his thumb and rubbed at a tough spot of chocolate syrup on his stomach. He looked up and saw Brian standing right in front of him. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. The zit couldn’t really be staring at him, could it?

“Pop it.” Brian demanded, thrusting his cheek towards Justin.

“Excuse me? Ew.” Justin put his hand flat against Brian’s chest and pushed him back. “That’s disgusting.”

“Justin.” Brian let out an exasperated sigh. “My tongue takes up residence in your ass nightly. You can pop my zit.”

“Brian! I am not popping your fucking pimple!”

“Fuck you then. See if I ever do anything for you ever again.” Justin rolled his eyes and smirked as Brian took his place back in front of the mirror. “I have a fucking pitch to give today.”

“To who?”

“I don’t wanna say.”

“What the fuck are we, four? Tell me.”

“Mmph,” Brian mumbled. Justin took a step closer.

“What was that?”

“Clearasil. I’m pitching to Clearasil.”

“Oh man,” Justin giggled. “Life must really hate you.”

“Thank you for your sympathy, asshole.” Brian ran his fingertip over the zit, or what he had dubbed “The Growth”.

“Brian, stop queening out. It’s just a pimple. Everyone gets them.”

“Yeah? When was the last time you got a zit, porcelain boy?” Brian raised an eyebrow and Justin furrowed his brow as he thought.

“There was this one time when I hit puberty…shut up. That’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“That everyone gets zits.”

“You don’t. So not everyone gets zits.”

“You are so infuriating! Get your pimply ass in the shower!” Brian blanched and looked over his shoulder. He turned around and put his hands on his ass.

“There aren’t really zits on my ass, are there?” Justin slapped his hand to his face and shook his head.

“No. Get in the shower.” Justin turned and left the bathroom after watching Brian trying to look at his ass in the mirror. That was amusing, at least. He heard the water run in the shower and he pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. 

He was covered in various sticky substances. They should not have stopped at that grocery store on the way home from Babylon last night. But they had been out of lube, and Justin was hungry. Chocolate syrup was on sale. They were really, really drunk.

Oh god, was that whipped cream in his ear? He closed his eyes. _Please_ let it be whipped cream.

He really wanted a shower. But he knew if he didn’t so something, Brian would spend all day crying over the growth on his face. He wouldn’t go do his pitch, and he would be an asshole for a week for losing the account. He would blame Justin, and never ever buy him chocolate syrup ever again. 

Plus, Brian wasn’t very giving in bed when he was really mad. Justin would miss the blowjobs.

He left the loft and walked to the pharmacy down the street. He had to get something to help his boyfriend, because he loved Brian and all his queeny tendencies. And there were the blowjobs to think about, of course.

He stepped back into the loft and shut the door. He kicked off his shoes and dumped the bag’s contents on the bed just as Brian stepped into the bedroom naked.

“Justin, I think it’s getting bigger. It’s growing.” Justin didn’t even look up. 

“Shut up.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him. “While you were busy crying over your deformity, I went to the drug store and got some acne shit.”

“You didn’t tell them it was for me, did you?” Justin looked up at Brian with a surprised look on his face.

“What the fuck? Sit down.” Brian sat down beside him and Justin started applying various creams and gels to the offending blemish. Justin reached into the bag and pulled out another item. “This is like, some sort of concealer stick. I think I got the right shade.”

Brian stared at him like a complete idiot as Justin held the stick up against Brian’s face and closed one eye. Without batting an eye, Brian smacked the stick from Justin’s hand and sent it skittering across the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck, Brian?” Justin got up and retrieved the concealer stick.

“I sprouted a zit, not a fucking vagina.”

“Brian, the thing looks like it’s going to grow legs and walk off of your face.”

“You’re the worst person to have a zit around. Get away from me. Let me wallow in my ugliness.”

“At least you still have your big dick. And your pretty hair.”

“You aren’t helping.” Brian fell back on the bed and rested his arm over his eyes. Justin looked from the concealer stick in his hand and back to Brian. He got an evil glint in his eye and tackled Brian. He straddled him and pinned his arms under his knees.

“RAPE!” Brian screamed.

“Yeah right, like I’d fuck you with that thing staring me in the face.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Liar. Now hold still.” Brian let out an exasperated sigh and stopped struggling. Justin carefully applied the concealer. When he was all finished, the blemish was barely visible. You wouldn’t be able to see it unless you knew it was there. “There! Now you will get up, put on your most fabulous Armani suit, and go wow the pants off of the Clearasil people. I mean that figuratively, of course.”

Justin climbed off of Brian and the brunet immediately sprinted into the bathroom. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for Brian’s reaction.

“Holy shit! I’m beautiful again!” Brian called out.

“And not at all vain,” Justin shouted back.

“I’m not conceited. I’m just fucking gorgeous.” Justin could hear the smirk in his voice. He rolled his eyes and giggled. Brian came out from the bathroom, his hair perfectly styled. Justin watched him closely as he got dressed, looking impeccable in a charcoal gray suit.

Justin walked Brian to the door and gave him a long, languid kiss.

“Are you sure you can’t see it?” Brian asked. 

“Um, not really,” Justin mumbled. Brian rolled his lips into his mouth and nodded. He kissed Justin once more and left the loft. Justin laughed and turned back towards the bedroom. He made it about three steps when the loft door slid back and Brian dropped his briefcase on the floor.

“Fuck it. I’m not going.”

“Brian…”

“No fuck you. I’m not going.”

“Just go to work you baby! You’re like a teenage girl on prom night.”

“I take offense to that.”

“You should. I was making fun of you.” Justin handed Brian his briefcase and pushed him out the door. He waited until Brian was in the lift before walking back into the loft. He slid the door shut and wandered into the bedroom. He eyed the array of blemish products scattered across the bed.

He pulled off his sweater and stretched his neck to the side. That’s when he saw it. His very own pimple on his pale, smooth, shoulder.

“NOO!”

What the fuck was in that chocolate syrup?


End file.
